Bodhidharma and Peace of Mind Teisho by Rafe Martin, Endless Path Zendo, October 2020
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Bodhidharma and Peace of Mind Teisho by Rafe Martin, Endless Path Zendo, October 2020 “Bodhidharma and Peace of Mind” is case no. 41 of the Zen training text, Wu-men kuan, (Mumonkan), Gateless Barrier. Created by the unusual Chinese Zen monk, Wu-men, in the early 12th century, the book, comprised of 48 koan cases along with Wu-men’s illuminating commentaries and verses, draws on the sayings and doings of earlier 8th & 9th century T’ang era Zen masters, all to help students explore and actualize genuine practice-realization. Case 41: Bodhidharma sat facing the wall. The Second Ancestor1, having cut off his arm, stood there in the snow. He said, “Your disciple’s mind has no peace as yet. I beg you, master, to please put it to rest.” Bodhidharma said, “Bring me your mind, and I will put it to rest.” The Second Ancestor said, “I have searched for my mind, but I cannot find it.” Bodhidharma said, “Then I have completely put it to rest for you.” Wu-men’s Commentary The broken-toothed old foreigner proudly came over a hundred thousand miles across the sea. This was like raising waves where there is no wind. Bodhidharma could enlighten only one disciple, and even he was a cripple. Well, well! Hsien-san-lang does not know four words. Wu-men’s Verse Coming from the West and directly pointing— This great affair was caused by the transmission. The troublemakers who created the stir in Zen circles Are, after all, these two! ___ 1. Hui-k’o (Chinese)(Japanese – Eka) The folkloric figure who was a superb fisherman who was illiterate. Wu-men is calling our attention to the failure of words and abstractions. Zen tradition holds that 1500 years ago a somewhat mythic Buddhist teacher named Bodhidharma, an ex-Indian prince, at an advanced age came over the seas to China from Southern India where, directly pointing to Mind without dependence on special words and letters or approved “holy” texts, opened the gateless gate of Zen. Bodhidharma’s Four Principles were summed up as: A special transmission outside sutras; No dependence on words and phrases; Directly pointing to the human mind; Seeing into one’s nature and attaining Buddhahood. With this four point presentation, Bodhidharma opened up his shop and set out his wares. The Zen teaching he presented differed from that of other schools of Buddhist practice. Rather than adding good things like wisdom and compassion to ourselves, Bodhidharma’s teaching took everything away so that we might recognize that the Mind we seek we already have, and that this Original, untainted Mind right now sees, hears, thinks, eats, digests, gets tired and, sleeps. All we have to do is awake to what is already ours. As the Beatles sang, “Baby you're the rich man,” and, “Now that you know who you are, what are you going to do.” How will you use it? This became a sort of byword in Chinese Zen – “You already have it, so how will you use it?” Once two teachers checked themselves on this while looking up at the moon. One said, “Everyone has it, but they do not use it.” The other said, “How true. Won’t you please use it?” The other said, “How would you use it?” The questioner then seized his friend by the collar of his robe, threw him to the ground, and trampled him. The other got up, dusted himself off, and said, “What a tiger you are!” Or, as the Buddhist parable of Enyadatta and her head puts it so succinctly, Enyadatta has never been without her head. Only because she doesn't know it, she becomes crazed thinking her head is missing, and has no peace. How astonished she is when she discovers that her missing head is actually where it’s always been, right on her shoulders! And yet how much work remains before that crazed state of thinking her head is missing is gone, and she can settle into a truly ordinary, that is, unself-conscious life. Just having Bodhidharma’s words isn't enough. The treasure map he presents with his four principles is where we begin. Faith in Zen means action, not dogma. We must find the jewel that the Lotus Sutra says is already sewn into the lining of our clothes. It won't do to simply believe and think we’re rich without actual money in the bank. There is knowing —“that’s a maple, that’s an oak, that’s a Subaru, that’s a Chevy,” and there is knowing the way we personally know if water is hot or cold. The great Chao-chou, when asked by a monk, “What is the meaning of Bodhidharma’s coming from the West?” answered, saying, “The oak tree in the front garden.” M # 37. What kind of knowing is that? Was he saying Bodhidharma was so compassionate he came even for the sake of this tree? If so, you’ve chopped down that old oak and turned into a dead stump. Ongoing Zen practice-realization opens us to intimacy, a knowing beyond knowledge. If we persist, it does so with increasing depth. While this can make it seem like we are gaining, we’re actually losing – losing all that keeps us feeling separated, anxious, alone and without peace of mind. Such loss is a great gain. Sitting back and thinking, “Buddhism says we have peace from the start. All I have to do is realize it,” is not the same as making the effort to actually realize this inherent peace. All it means is that we have the assurance that if we do the work, gradually – which consists of many “suddenlys” – we will touch base with the vast peaceful ground that is our birthright. Though it may take time to see and take hold of it, we have the assurance of those who have walked this path before, that if we keep at it, one day we will see what is under our nose. Which is why we work with a teacher. It is actually surprisingly hard to see what is under our very nose. Wu-men has a verse that goes – “Because it is so very close, it takes so long to realize.” And, yet, such realization does happen. Bodhidharma and Huike demonstrate how this goes. True peace begins with honesty, which typically means an actual recognition of our un- peace. Like the person who puts down his or her keys and a moment later reaches for them – only to discover that they’re not there, we may one day think, like Enyadatta, “Where is my peace? According to what I know from Zen teaching, it’s right here. Ok. So, where is it?!! I don't see it!” This no peace is the beginning of real peace. Doubt is faith in action; faith is the ground of doubt. Which is not skepticism so much as, “Why? Why injustice? Why suffering? Why birth and death itself?” Roshi Kapleau used to say a Zen Buddhist really needs only one article of belief, namely that the Buddha wasn’t a fool or a liar when, upon his great enlightenment he exclaimed, “Wonder of wonders! All beings are already Buddha. Only self-centered delusions prevent their attesting to this.” Roshi Kapleau would add, once we accept that the Buddha wasn’t a fool or liar, we are driven to find out for ourselves what he was talking about. After all, “all beings” includes me. But how can I be a Buddha? I don’t see it at all. What did he mean? Our path begins with sincerity and with a more than conceptual recognition of discomfort. “Why was I born? Why must I die? Why do painful and unjust things happen? Why is there so much suffering? Why are some rich and some poor, some healthy and some sick, some attractive and some ugly?” Huike, as a Buddhist monk, had read and studied, meditated, and chanted. And yet he was honest enough to acknowledge that his mind was not at peace. When he heard of this new teacher, Bodhidharma, he set off to find him. What does it take to work with a teacher? How do we express our sincerity, our aspiration, our need and determination? How dramatic does it have to be? The story of Huike and Bodhidharma seems rather . excessive, wouldn't you say? Letting go of what we no longer need, setting time aside for regular zazen, for teisho, dokusan, zazenkai, for ceremony, and sesshin is a way of cutting off an arm. It is not just a demonstration. It is the effort itself. Letting go of what is lesser, is how we work to realize what is greater. Committing to this count, this breath, this koan point, is our sitting in the snow. We no longer just drift along the way we’ve always done. We go against the flow of our own self-centered habits. Poet and men’s movement leader, Robert Bly’s words to a workshop I was in with him long ago, strike that chord – “If we just go with the flow,” he said, “we’ll always end up in the bleeping Gulf of Mexico.” In other words if we just keep doing what we’ve been doing, we’ll end up in the same old place we always end up – dissatisfied and without peace. There comes a time for effort and for change. Yet the problem with so-called “samurai Zen,” is that it thinks that macho toughness is the point of practice.